


La Bella Dìva

by iterations



Category: Il fantasma dell'opera | The Phantom of the Opera (1998), Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Carlotta is a dick, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Pedophilia, Light Bestiality, Misogyny, Murder, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Rape, but she deserves better than this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-02 09:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iterations/pseuds/iterations
Summary: I always believed something happened between the phantom and la Carlotta to fuel his somewhat ungrounded animosity towards her. This story is about this 'something'.





	1. The Courtship

**Author's Note:**

> Carlotta is often depicted as a obnoxious, old quack that sings like a toad but I don't believe she would have acquired her status as Prima Donna without at least some talent. Perhaps her unbecoming personality has colored how people perceive her voice over the years.
> 
> The phantom of this story is based on Dario Argento's version. He is not disfigured but has severe mental issues and a little bit of psychic powers. I tagged Carlotta as 'Carlotta Giudicelli' but in this version her surname is 'Altieri' and she is Italian.
> 
> The phantom was abandoned at birth 1877 in Argento's adaptation so the 'Christine events' would probably have happened in the early 20th century.

September 15th 1898 was la première nuit of the Paris opera house's interpretation of the Italian opera seria Agrippina. Famous Prima Donna Claudia Valentini had been recruited from the Teatro di San Carlo in Napoli to play Agrippina, the mother of future emperor Nero. With her was her page Marc and a young soprano, Carlotta Altieri (that was to play the beautiful maiden Poppæa). Carlotta's mother had also joined them on the tour.

The opera had been unabashedly advertised all over Paris and the main stage hands of the opera, M. Buquet and M. Pourdieu were frantically trying to organize all the backdrops for the performance. Someone had made an disorganized mess behind the stage, at the day of the big premiere none the less. Now they had to summon all their skill to arrange the props into their designated locations.

At the same time singers were rehearsing their arias and the girl ballet were practicing their dance-performance accompanied by M. Philippe's strumming of the piano. No one seemed bothered by the cacophony, tending to their own recitals and hardly giving the other performers any attention at all.

Carlotta was focusing on her important libretto in the middle of act 3 where she sang her devotion to her beloved Ottone, which was played by a French tenor. She loved to play Poppæa but her delight was clouded by her envy of Claudia. She, Carlotta, had much more talent than that old shrew. She should be the head number on the plaques. The Prima Donna! Not an old hag who had her glory days behind her and had to emigrate to get a decent part.

“Sì, sì ch'il mio diletto" was going to be her big breakthrough in Paris. This wasn't a one time performance, no, not at all. She would entrance the audience with her voice and dark, lush eyes. She was already on the brink of stealing Marc from Claudia. In secret she ordered Marc to bring her sweets, get her shoes to the cobbler or her dresses aired and pressed. Claudia would not like it at all if she knew. Marc was _her_ toy and Claudia loved how he doted over her and only had eyes for his Prìma Donna.

Yes, in time Carlotta would run this opera with an iron fist just like Claudia had done in the San Carlo before she lost their adoration. Perhaps she would even have the attention of rich, handsome suitors? Oh, how she would love that. To tease them. Milk them for expensive gifts and steal kisses in the dark. “Aiutami”, the idea made her feel fervent and she had to fan herself.

It was almost time. The salon was filled with exited spectators. Wealthy people, aristocrats, all of them learned and appreciative. Oh how they loved a premiere and had waited for this night.

Carlotta was anxious. She hoped with all her heart that she would nail all the notes in her arias and bewitch the audience. She looked down at her body. She was wearing a white, roman cut tunic made of a flimsy material. It was draped over her plump breasts and she had a waistband of gold/red brocade that accentuated her round hips. If she were to sweat, the fabric of the tunic would become almost transparent, concealing nothing. Her concern over this made her feel heated and this was exactly what she did _not_ want to happen. She would have to talk to the owners of the opera about making another dress for her. But it would have to be done tomorrow. It was time to shine.

...........................................

In the rafters above the stage, behind the curtain, hung a spider. No, not a spider, a rat. He had climbed the beams as he so often did to get a front row seat. A bird's eye view of the spectacle on stage. Agrippina was pressing her son to take the throne. The diva was a new one. She was a little older than the sopranos used to be but her voice was still strong and pure. But what exited him. What _moved_ him, was the young woman that suddenly appeared. Her voice was sublime. Like a swallow, climbing and diving gracefully and effortlessly. A siren call racing just above the surface of the sea. Unrelenting, powerful and skirl. He was transfixed by her song. Her beauty. Her auburn curls and forgive him, that luscious body under the thin gown.

The first act was over and the audience was taking a refreshing break in the grand hall. Behind stage M. Pourdieu was flapping around, moving props that were going to be used in the next act for easy access. Madame Valentini had slouched herself on a divan and was now being waited on by Marc. 

“Prendi la mia polvere!” Marc scurried away and left Claudia with a sullen expression. Her temper was short and hot. A frightening combination that drove away almost everyone, except her loyal Marc. He soon returned with a box of pale powder that Claudia started to dab on her freckled face and chest. 

Carlotta was boiling with envy. Her mother doted on her of course but she seldom did anything right and her help was always accompanied by nagging criticism. She needed to powder her nose as well! The candelabras over the stage spread a pleasant enough light but they also made it very hot. She could feel beads of sweat on her nose and she was hoping that it would not increase and spread to other parts of her body as well.

In Act 2 Poppæa was surrounded by suitors. Both on stage and a secret one above in the rafters. Her performance was flawless and her tunic was still keeping her modesty intact when it was time for another pause.

Her mother had brought her a cup of weak honeyed tea to invigorate herself with. Carlotta would do almost anything for a glass of wine to settle her nerves, but it would have to wait until after the performance. A tipsy soprano on stage would not do.

Act 3 was the culmination of Carlotta's performance. Poppæa tricked Claudius and Nero and now she would sing her duetto with her beloved Ottone. The audience held their breath communally as she rallied her trembling chorale. 

_Sì, sì, ch’il mio diletto_  
_fai tu, mio caro ben_  
_tu il cor di questo petto_  
_l’ardor di questo sen _

The stage hands changed the backdrop swiftly and now they were in the imperial salon. Agrippina had her shining moment in the spotlight and Poppæa was simply a background figure again. Carlotta fumed inside but her exterior revealed no hint of what was going on inside her head.

Above, on a beam, the phantom still had his eyes on the young soprano. She was a goddess! All he wanted to do was worship her. To give her anything she wanted. A couple of hours ago he didn't even know she existed but now he felt as if he would suffocate without her air in his lungs.

After the performance the main actors went to their dressing rooms. Claudia's was already full of flowers. Extravagant bouquets of roses, peonies and carnations. Carlotta was not as promoted as her and only had received a few smaller whisks. Her mother began to undo her intricate hairdo and placed pin after pin on the dresser as Carlotta eagerly ripped open the letters. The biggest bouquet was from M. Poligny and he had written a welcoming letter thanking her for visiting the opera house. The others were from her mother and Marc. “Che delusione.” Next time she had to get more congratulations for sure. 

She dismissed her mother. Wanting a bit of privacy to open a bottle of ripasso. She deserved it after all after tonights success. She scrambled a bit inside the drawers of her dresser to look for a half eaten box of Belgian chocolates that Marc had brought her and sighed contently when she found it and popped a praline inside her mouth.

She was just about to go to her trunk to find the bottle when a sudden chill had her shuddering. Somehow the air in the room turned glacial and eerie. Perhaps the wine would warm her up a bit. When she reached down to open the trunk she shrieked. “Ratto! Rimuovere il topo, MAMMA!”

Carlotta's mother slammed the door open and hurried to rescue her daughter. Carlotta was crying and bellowing and nearly gave her poor old mother a heart attack. When the mother saw the rodent she joined the chorus of howls. It wasn't until the janitor Gustave had cornered the rat and caught it with his net that the women calmed down and stopped hollering. 

“I'm terribly sorry mademoiselle and madame. There are always rats in the city but the problem at the opera has increased during the past years. I will ask M. Poligny to hire a designed rat catcher. The problem is too widespread for me to handle myself I am afraid. My sincerest apologies again.” He bowed to the ladies and hid the net with the rat behind his back.

“This is not acceptable. I demand another dressing room. No ratti, you hear me!” Carlotta was upset and she refused to sleep in a room with rats. She had thought that the Paris opera would be a clean place but apparently they did not know how to run a proper establishment.

After a heated discussion with the matron Hilde, Carlotta and her mother could switch rooms with the man that played Claudius. 

...........................................

The next day M. Poligny was congratulating and talking to the actors. Carlotta took this chance to compliment and charm him and when he was absolutely smitten with her she brought up the problem with her tunic.

“Monsieur, look at my dress. It's scandalous! Prego Monsieur. I have to get another dress.” Carlotta batted her eyelids at him and M. Poligny smiled at her amiably. 

“But you look absolutely lovely in that dress, mademoiselle!” M. Poligny could not understand what the problem could be. He was a catholic as well and thought Carlotta looked like an angel descended upon earth. 

“It covers nothing, monsieur. Prego!” She was insistent and M. Poligny thought she was sweet as a pastry.

“All right, all right, mademoiselle. I will get you another dress that is more covering. Will you sing for me first?” He smiled again and Carlotta felt proud as a rooster. She sang him one of her arias and M. Poligny applauded her afterwards. “Brava, brava!”

They had another show in the evening and it was an equal success. Carlotta's new dress was not finished so she had to wear the skimpy one again. This time word of the lovely Carlotta had spread and an adequate amount of flowers awaited her in her dressing room. Several of the men had left her admiring notes and she basked in the appreciation. One note caught her attention particularly. It was from an anonymous admirer.

_Sublime Carlotta,_  
_Your voice fills my heart with divine light!_  
_I never knew I wandered in darkness until I heard you._  
_The hymn of an angel, my Venus!_  
_To place a kiss upon your celestial hand,_  
_an impossible dream, I succumb to._

_Your adamant admirer,_  
_O.G._

She read the words several times, carefully, reverently. This was all she could hope for. To inspire such admiration! She would be the poster girl of the opera in no time and the suitors would stand in line to get a glimpse of her. She would refuse them all of course. She deserved nothing less than true love. The rest of the evening she read the note from O.G. Fantasizing about who it could be. Someone rich and handsome for sure! Maybe even a duke... Did she know of someone famous with those initials? She had not been in Paris long enough to hear about all eligible bachelors.

...........................................

The next day would be filled with rehearsals. The girl ballet group always started accompanied by M. Philippe on the piano. Plié, plié, padeboré, sauté and repeat. Again and again the little girls practiced their moves. As always, M. Buquet and M. Pourdieu were watching the girls with growing fascination. They had brought sweets from a candy store a few blocks away and were giving out presents to the girls when they finished. The girls huddled together and ran away upstairs to matron Hilde. M. Buquet lamented the fact that he was not even given a small embrace to M. Pourdieu, which nodded and pouted with his lips in silent agreement. 

The phantom was watching everything from his usual hiding place above, waiting for Carlotta to begin her practice. He had to wait for quite some time before Carlotta appeared. She was beautiful as always and wearing a new white tunic. This was more plain than the last one and the phantom grieved the loss. He closed his eyes when Carlotta began to sing and let her voice caress him and fill him with the divine light. He could not admire her from afar anymore. The pressing need to be close to her, to _touch_ her consumed his thoughts. But could she ever love a creature of the night? A rat, scurrying down in the dark caverns below the catacombs. Would she ever sing together with him, down in his dreamery?

When Carlotta went back to her room, he followed her in the shadows. He had ways to move around the halls of the opera house unnoticed. Almost every room had a secret passage and there were countless of ways to slip into the dark. Carlotta's room was no exception. If she was alone in there he would not have been able to resist to go to her, but now she was there with her mother and Marc. The page was holding a diadem, ready to present it to Carlotta when her mother had finished brushing her hair. Every stroke of the brush polished her strands and made them shine a deep copper, like a brand new church roof. 

“Mamma, it is cold. Put more logs in the furnace.” Carlotta shivered. 

Marc put a soft plaid over her shoulders while the mother obliged her daughter. They stayed in the room for several hours, chatting about nothing in particular. Then Marc had to leave to attend to Claudia and it was only Carlotta and her mother left. Carlotta's old mother rested on her bed and let her eyes shut close. Carlotta hummed a lullaby her mother always sang to her when she as a little girl and she chuckled softly when she heard the old woman's contented snores. 

The phantom stood in the shadows behind a heavy curtain. They were almost alone in her room except for the sleeping old madam. The thought of being alone with Carlotta made his heart flutter and his intense thoughts transfigured the air in the room to an icy gust. Carlotta draped the plaid closer around herself. It was disconcerting, the entire atmosphere in there. She almost thought she would be attacked by more rats. 

She suddenly let the plaid fall to the floor and walked out of the room. The phantom waited a few gut wrenching moments and stepped out in the light to follow her. He opened the door to the empty corridor. The clicking of Carlotta's high heels resonated in the hall. He followed what he thought was the origin of the sound to the stairs leading to the grand balcony on the roof of the opera house. He went up the stairs and found Carlotta standing still, looking out over Paris. When she heard his footsteps she quickly turned around.

“Oh, you scared me, monsieur!” She clutched the front of her dress. Perhaps trying to still her racing heart.

“Pardon me, mademoiselle, I didn't mean to frighten you.” The phantom stopped a respectable distance from her.

“Who are you?”

“Oscar Geroux.” He reached out his right hand toward her. The lie had come so easily it surprised him.

“Carlotta Altieri.” Carlotta took his hand daintily and gave it a slight tug. “What are you doing up here? I haven't seen you in the opera house before.”

“I live nearby. Just thought I'd come and introduce myself. I heard a noise up here and followed it.”

Carlotta oh'd faintly. It occurred to her that the situation of being alone on the balcony with a strange gentleman might be a bit inappropriate. Especially the way he was eying her like she was a succulent morsel ready to be devoured. She had no place to escape to since he blocked the only way down into the opera.

“Will you sing Poppæa tomorrow, Carlotta?” His sudden question woke her up from her thoughts. 

“Yes, I will sing.”

“I might come and watch.” With those final words he turned around and walked away, making his black cape billow behind him.

...........................................

The next night was another performance night and Carlotta felt comfortable in her new discreeter gown. She did an excellent performance again and after the show she asked her mother for some privacy to look at her flowers and letters in good rest. She browsed through the cards hastily, knowing what she was looking for. It was attached to a small bouquet of red carnations. With eager hands she opened the card and read its contents.

_Lovely Carlotta_  
_Tonight you shone with the light of God._  
_I can only write what I dare not speak to you in person._  
_Know that I am yours forever._  
_More precious to me than the air I breathe._

_Sincerely yours_  
_O.G._

Carlotta's heart was beating fast as she read the letter. She _had_ to find out who O.G. was. Never in her life had she received such dulcet poetry. Then she heard a whisper. It was so low and demure she scarcely heard it, but there it was again. “Come!” Carlotta looked around the room but nobody was there except her. The voice was beckoning her and she stood up to follow it where it might lead. She let her subconsciousness guide her and found herself on the roof where she had met Oscar the other day. Oscar Geroux! O. G. How stupid of her not to have noticed before!

She suddenly felt chilled. A cold gust of air had her trembling and she looked around. Her restless body pirouetted into something hard and warm. Carlotta looked up and found herself in the arms of Oscar! She backed away in reflex to the not exactly unwelcome feeling but absolutely terribly inappropriate feeling.

“Carlotta” His voice was soft and almost a whisper. He followed her and she backed a little further away. He followed her again and now she was backed against a wall. His blue eyes burned with a mysterious flame she had never seen before. It made her breath shallow and trembling. Soon he was close enough to almost touch again.

“Did you receive my flowers, Carlotta?” He took her hand in his and looked at her with all the wonder and awe she could ever have dreamt of. She could only nod, her voice failing her for the first time in several years. He bent down his head to meet their entwined hands and tenderly kissed her hand. Carlotta shivered again, from cold or something else. “I'm freezing.” The phantom pulled her closer into his arms. “I will warm you then.” Together they stood with their arms around each other for a long time. “I need to check on mia mamma.” she finally said breathlessly and broke the embrace.


	2. The Treachery

Carlotta had a hard time sleeping that night. She wanted to know more about Oscar. Who was he? Was he wealthy? Did he come from a good lineage? All she knew were his letters to her, his blue eyes and decadently long hair. The feel of his arms around her. The thought of meeting him again made her belly feel warm. She was tossing and turning in her bed. Trying to count sheep instead of being preoccupied by those impure thoughts.

...........................................

The phantom had returned down to his abode in the caves under the catacombs. The place had been his home forever but suddenly it felt empty. Even the company of his little four legged friends didn't sooth the ache he felt inside. When Carlotta had returned to her room he had lingered on the roof. He had a vision up there about him and Carlotta lying together in his bed. Bodies twisted together as one. He would have to lure her down there. To his nest. His dreamery. But he had to have patience. If he did it too soon he would scare her away.

Rats are by their nature nocturnal creatures and the phantom was perfectly at ease lurking around during the night. Most of the opera house was sleeping and paid little attention to what was happening behind the stage in the wee hours of the night. It was time again to play one of his little pranks om M. Buquet and M. Pourdieu. The two buffoons would have their hands occupied the next day. He would make sure of it. It wasn't exactly a wicked thing to do. The less time they had to gawk at the ballet girls, the better. He felt perfectly justified when he climbed up high and cut off the ropes the backdrops where hanging by. The cardboard scenery bounced a short distance but were not completely destroyed since he had the good nature to have hoisted them down to ground level before he cut the ropes. Swiftly he gathered the ropes and brought the ball with him down to his underground palace. 

The phantom wanted to give something to Carlotta. A present. He understood perfectly well that a woman of her caliber needed to be wooed. His dreamery were full of beautiful things. Items that had been forgotten on the attic or in the cellar. Items that he had lifted from the ignorant fools that were running his opera. After a bit of rummaging around he found the perfect thing. She would melt in his arms like wax.

...........................................

Carlotta had a few days off. No shows were planned and the whole ensemble were now so comfortable with their play that they did not need to rehearse every day. She was feeling restless. Still wondering about Oscar. She even went up on the grand balcony on the roof of the opera a few times to see if he was there. Her mother would not approve over her witless mooning over a man. 

She went to the stage even though she did not need to practice her singing. M. Buquet and M. Pourdieu were sweating and swearing, trying to balance a huge ladder against the beams above the stage. 

“This theater is cursed I tell you!” M. Buquet was shouting up at the other man that was balancing on top of the ladder, trying to fasten a rope. 

Carlotta thought they looked so comical she almost blurted out a loud laugh. She sat herself on Claudia's divan to feel the springiness of it. She would have to get a similar one when she was Prima Donna. A pink one!

Her thoughts were interrupted by that whispering silky voice once more. ”Yes, I'll come.” She whispered back and sneaked out from the auditorium.

Oscar was in the usual place on the roof of the opera house. How inexplicable that he would be up here after she heard that ghastly voice. When Carlotta walked closer to him he turned around at the sound of her heels on the roof. A smile played across his face when he saw her and he stretched his arms welcoming toward her. Carlotta landed in his arms almost in a haze. Oscar stroked her hair with one hand while the other was pulling her closer to his chest. “My lovely Carlotta. My love.” He cooed. He buried his nose in her curls and inhaled her intoxicating scent. It must be herbs from her homeland he thought while he reveled in her aroma.

Carlotta curled her hands behind his back. His hair was so long she was almost touching it with her hands like this. She sighed softly into his chest causing him to twitch and squeeze harder at her back. His clothes had a faint smell of mold. 

Soon she felt a hand on her jaw. Following its line and turning her face upward. They looked each other in the eyes and Carlotta shivered. Agonizingly slow Oscar bent his face downwards until their lips touched in a chaste kiss. Carlotta had never been kissed before by anyone beside her mother. There was another peck and then another. Oscar kept placing bruising close mouthed kisses o her lips, chin and throat.

The phantom was lost in his own desire. He wanted to mould Carlotta's body against his own. The conflicting feelings of wanting to taste every inch of her skin and at the same time bury himself deeply inside her was driving him mad. He opened his mouth and let his tongue dance on her pale olive skin. He could feel Carlotta flinch at the sensation and had to stifle the groan that was building up inside his throat. 

Carlotta was having an out of body experience. The things Oscar did to her felt so good but it was wrong! She knew nothing about him. It was scandalous to say the least, the things he was doing to her, but she could not move her body away from him. She regained control again after Oscar had sucked hard on the skin of her collarbone. She released herself from his embrace and his mouth made a popping sound when the skin was pulled from it. 

“We should not be doing this!” The phantom watched Carlotta with surprise. Her body had responded so deliciously to his kisses that her sudden outburst came as a chock. “What is it my love?” The expression on her face frightened him. Did she not love him back? Why did she come up here then?

Carlotta ran inside the opera house back to her room and her mother. Her face was a bright shade of crimson and her breasts were heaving over her corset with her deep breaths.

“Cosa è successo, bambina?” Carlotta's mother had a worried expression on her face. 

“Niente, mamma!” Carlotta stormed to her dresser and began to brush her hair with rough strokes. Her mother came and took the brush firmly from her hand and continued the brushing in a much more controlled manner. At least until she stopped what she was doing and swiped aside Carlotta's hair from her chest. Carlotta received a thorough berating for the hickey she had on her collarbone. Her mother really knew how to bottle up her anger to unleash it at times such as this.

...........................................

The crème de la crème of Paris was over the moon about Agrippina. M. Poligny received his fair share of admiring letters but more importantly the success of the opera filled his purse and he was feeling extremely benevolent. Due to this increase of revenue he had decided to oblige the janitor Gustave and hire a rat catcher. The man had worked on several grain mills and already had an arsenal of rat trapping tools. M. Mercier was introduced to Gustave and both of them started to set out traps for the rats. There was ordinary mouse traps that were baited with cheese and pork but M. Mercier also had invented contraptions of his own. Automatons that trapped the rat and pushed it into a grinder where it turned into mince meat. The meat was then collected and used in other traps. Very inventive of him.

...........................................

The incident with her mother made it even more difficult for Carlotta to forgive Oscar but eventually she calmed down and did. He never hurt her did he? He was just infatuated and of course men would have trouble to keep their emotions under control, wouldn't they? Carlotta started to feel bad about the way she stormed out. Oscar must think that she did not like him anymore. He was nowhere to be found though. Carlotta thought that he had gone home but vain hope made her go out on the grand balcony once more before it was time to call it a night.

He was not there of course. Carlotta felt tears burning behind her eyelids but she would not cry for a man. No. She was la Carlotta. Men would cry over _her_, not the other way around. She started to sing her part of the duetto to calm herself down and think of something else. Work was her mistress.

The phantom was hiding behind one of the stone gargoyles. How appropriate to huddle together with another beast. Carlotta would never love him like he loved her, he knew. But a small flame of hope was still burning deep inside of his chest and was not so easily snuffed out. When he heard her divine voice he wept behind the statue. He would not go to her this time. He knew she would never accept his double nature. A man, but also a crawling rat. Not until she stopped singing and he heard her speak “Oscar!” He was sure she could not have seen him in his hiding place. Curiosity made him peek around the statue to look at his beloved Carlotta. She was standing valiantly, watching out in the darkness. Her face was still, as a chiseled statue of Aphrodite. 

“Oscar?” Her voice was timid and she looked nowhere near where he sat. His heart spilled over with love and adoration. He could not resist to stand up and walk toward her. When Carlotta saw him she made a start and he was sure she would come running into his arms but she stayed still where she was. Looking upon him from under her dark lashes. When he had walked the distance to her she took his hands in hers and looked him in the eyes. “Perdonami... I'm sorry Oscar. I should not have left you in such a manner before. I do not know what got into me.” He embraced her hard and dried his tears on her velvet hair. 

They parted and the phantom remembered something he had in his pocket. He took it up and presented it to Carlotta. It was a silver ring adorned with the face of a woman. “When you wear Medusa I will know that you are mine Carlotta.” He slid the ring onto her finger and held her fingers to his lips. Carlotta was speechless and could only twist her finger before herself to admire the ring. The phantom surprised her with a fierce kiss. This time he opened his lips and hers mimicked his, almost without thought. His tongue caressed her lower lip and she trembled when he buried it inside her mouth.

...........................................

The phantoms recent victories in love did not make him sluggish. He had become aware of that the opera had hired a rat catcher and it was displeasing to him. The contraptions he used to mangle the phantom's friends were pure deviltry! This cur had to vanish one way or the other. He had to make it happen somehow.

He had started to collect all the traps but the twats upstairs seemed to relentlessly find new ways to capture and murder his friends. To main culprit, the new rat catcher, had ventured down into the catacombs despite Gustave's dissuasion. He was setting up another of his devious machines when he was found by the phantom. Down in the catacombs no one can hear you scream and the phantom took advantage of this when he took M. Mercier by his front collar and lifted him up. A shrill howl escaped M. Mercier when the phantom bit off his nose. Blood gushed from the cavity in his face and dripped down the phantoms chin as well before he spit out the appendage. M. Mercier's shrieks ended quickly when the phantom put his other hand on his neck and twisted it until it cracked. The body and the trap was tossed in the underground river.

...........................................

Carlotta could not wait until it was time to meet her Oscar again. He had promised to come up to the roof after the show they were performing tonight. Roses of blush painted her cheeks and she looked absolutely lovely when she sang her duetto with Ottone. But it was not Ottone she thought about in secret.

After the show she made a quick visit to her dressing room to check on her greeting cards. Today she had gotten an absolutely lovely letter from a man that was an hotel owner, M. Segal. He was asking if he could come visit her after a show. As if la Carlotta would answer a letter. Hah! It made her smile mischievously. Tonight all her attention was on Oscar. She was wearing his ring now so why not take the opportunity to know a bit more about him. She was a woman in need of more than sweet kisses after all. 

They met on the roof as always. It was beginning to become their special place she thought as he swayed her in his tight embrace. “Will you not tell me anything about yourself, Oscar?” She begged. Her eyes wide and innocent looking. “I love you, will that not do?” He laughed. It made Carlotta feel irritated. He did not have to diminish her honest questions like that. “But, honestly what is your occupation?” He stopped laughing and looked seriously at her. “I go to the opera.” After a pause he added “And I protect my friends and loved ones.” He avoided the question again. Carlotta gave him a final chance to be truthful to her. “Can you at least take me with you to your home so I can see where you live?” He sighed and let her go. 

“You will know my home Carlotta, you will know me... But now is not the time. Don't concern yourself with trivialities.” 

Carlotta lost some of the excitement she felt coming up to the roof. What did he think she was to him? A toy? A doll to kiss and wallow in his desires? She wanted him, but she wanted more than passionate kisses on top of a roof. He could be anything. A vagrant, not a penny to his name, a conjurer or a criminal. “Oscar, I think I need to go to my room and rest a bit. I don't feel so well.” The sour expression on the corners of her mouth confirmed her disposition. “If there is anything I can do for you my love, you will tell me?” Oscar's question was earnest and full of concern and affection. “No I will be fine Oscar. Non ti preoccupare.” She patted his hand and turned around to go. “I love you Carlotta.” Was his parting words but she never answered him. Didn't even look back.

...........................................

The phantom was worried. Carlotta did not look well but the sudden onslaught of disease was also a bit odd. All of the sudden she wanted to know what his profession was? He sneaked into her dressing room again. Her mother was fast asleep and Carlotta was undoing her hair in front of the mirror. He held his breath when Carlotta started to unlace her dress. The dark blue velvet slid down her curves and ended up in a pile on the floor. Carlotta picked it up and hung it over a chair. She then pulled up her chemise a bit, revealing her fleshy thighs, and started to roll down her stockings, one by one uncovering her legs. 

This was not the first time the phantom had watched a woman undress. He had seen almost everyone in the opera company naked. Even madame Giry. But this was his Carlotta, his undying love! She was stripping in front of him. He knew she did not know he was there but he shuddered at the fantasy that she knew, and did this deliberately to entice him. He released his straining member from his all too tight trousers and stroked it while he watched Carlotta unlace her corset. He would have to be fast. There was not much clothes left on the woman, only her chemise. Her low humming when she wiped the makeup from her face overpowered the squishy sound of him tugging at his own flesh. When Carlotta was done she pulled the chemise over her head and was naked except for her panties. The sight of her voluptuous tits bouncing up and down nearly had him undone. He was now tugging at himself super-fast. Squeezing the tip of his cock with every stroke, which lubricated him and allowed him to increase the speed even more. If she wasn't constantly crooning her Italian songs she would have heard him. Carlotta slid on a nightgown over her arms, head and upper body. When it was on she moved her hands inside the gown and pulled down her panties. The sight of her most intimate underwear, white and lacy pushed him over the edge and he spilled in his hand. He was choking down his gasps at the pleasure of his orgasm. Carlotta flinched. She had heard a sound. The room was ice cold again and she put a few more logs into the fire. “Fantasmi” She breathed. Surely it must be ghosts and not rats. She much preferred specters over buck toothed rodents.

...........................................

Carlotta was in her dressing room after the show, changing clothes when she heard a knock on the door. “Un minuto!” She yelled and quickly laced up her dress. A strange gentleman was standing outside her door when she opened. He introduced himself as André Segal. He was holding a huge bouquet of red roses in his left hand and reached his right hand towards her. Kissing her hand when she gave it to him. She received the roses and the man blushed while he asked her “May I come in for a moment mademoiselle?” She offered him to walk past her inside and he gratefully accepted the invitation. 

“I must confess that I am absolutely smitten with you mademoiselle!” He blurted when they stood inside Carlotta's room. Carlotta started to blush as well and gave him a faint smile. To think that a rich hotel owner was infatuated with her... they smiled awkwardly at each other. Not really knowing where to go from there. “Would you like a glass of wine?” Carlotta offered him a glass of the bottle she had just opened. He accepted the glass and sighed when the first mouthful had run down his throat. “Great wine! Is it from your home town?” He restrained himself from taking another sip. Wouldn't do well to come off as brazen in front of her. “No, this is from Puglia, but Napoli makes great wine as well.” 

“Ah so you are from Naples then mademoiselle? I love Naples! The landscape... Vesuvio. Have you ever been to Pompeii?” He smiled eagerly.

“Yes I have been to Pompeii. Once.” She added. They talked about Italy and other places André had traveled to. Soon the bottle was completely empty and André felt courageous enough to ask Carlotta if he could kiss her hand again. “NO.” The snarl started Carlotta. Who was it that had said that? It couldn't have been André and it was not her. Was she hearing voices again? She ignored the voice and nodded to the gentleman. He took her hands softly in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. It made Carlotta's stomach buzz. She was still buzzing when André bid her good night. It occurred to her that she had completely forgotten about Oscar. She fingered the ring on her finger and contemplated if she should go up to the roof, but she was too tired and her mother would come back any minute. She decided to make it an early night instead.

...........................................

The phantom was fuming. He had kissed Carlotta's hand and not only that. The bitch had allowed it. _His_ Carlotta. _His_ woman. This duplicitous turd was making a claim on his beloved diva and without shame he had even told her he was to come again and see her performance the next night! The phantom would rather go to hell than see him inside Carlotta's room again.

The next evening madame Giry had made all seating arrangements and left the ledger in the foyer. The first act had started and no one was tending to the box office. The phantom made his way through the grand hall and opened the ledger. He saw the name he was after in box 5. So he was wealthy enough to hire an entire box or himself was he? The phantom restrained himself from spitting on the book. He quickly blended with the shadows again and waited for the first act to end. During the pause M. Segal went out of his box to fetch a glass of champagne. The phantom took this opportunity to sneak inside box 5. 

Act 2 started and M. Segal was apparently telling the truth about being smitten with Carlotta because when she sang her aria he put his glass on the table beside him and leaned forward in his seat. Resting his hands under his chin like a adoring boy, he did not notice the black clad hand that slipped a few drops of something into his glass. 

When it was time for another break M. Segal was too tired to lift himself from his seat. He yawned and strained to keep his eyes open. The champagne had gotten straight to his head. When he dosed off the phantom emerged from the shadows and pinched his nose shut with one hand. The other he used to cover M. Segal's mouth. He stirred in his sleep but was too weak to put up any kind of resistance. The drug had made him conformable and after a few minutes of asphyxiation his sleep deepened into that final sleep we all will take eventually. 

It was madame Giry that found the body when she was about to clean the box for the night and her screams woke up the entire opera.

...........................................

Carlotta was inconsolable. That nice, good natured man had died while he watched the opera. The police had found no traces of foul play. It was just her incredible misfortune to loose such a well-endowed suitor. She moped in her bed the entire next day. Her mother tried to console her but she would not have it right now. Marc came and gave her another box of chocolates that she gulped down. But not even the chocolate could improve her mood. 

There were voices in the air but she ignored them. To hell with all you fantasmi, she thought and cried into her pillow. 

She was on her way to the water closet when she saw a shadow move in the corridor. It flexed and stretched in front of her and grew into the shape of a man she knew. “Oscar!” She had nearly forgotten him. He moved toward her and took her in his arms. “What's wrong my love?” He cooed with his silken voice. Carlotta could not keep the tears back when she was asked right out, but she was in no state to talk about what happened. 

He wanted to go up on the roof with her where they could be alone but Carlotta was not in the mood. These passed days she had learned something about herself. Even though Oscar's poetry moved her and he looked like Bacchus incarnate, she did not feel what she felt with André. He was real, interesting. Oscar was a nice dream, but nothing more. Nothing she could count on for the rest of her life. She could not say as much in his presence but when she shook her head and walked away from him, he felt the coldness of her heart and it shattered him into pieces.


	3. The Vengeance

A few weeks later Carlotta had recuperated from the incident. She had a new suitor and he was even better than André. His name was Richard Thibault and he was one of the newly rich industrial magnates that seemed to pop up like mushrooms in the wake of the industrial revolution. He owned several cloth factories around Paris.

Richard had courted her with letters and flowers and now he knocked on her door with a truly extravagant gift in his hands. It was a genuine white mink fur coat. Carlotta screamed in excitement when she unboxed it and her arms flew around his neck. He laughed and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “I knew it was yours as soon as I saw it in the display window.” “Gratzie mille!” Carlotta could not stop smirking and danced around the room with the coat in her hands. “I believe it is from Milan.” Richard told her with an equally wide smile. Charlotta dropped the coat on the floor and jumped on Richard. He almost toppled over but somehow managed to hold his ground. She kissed him fiercely and he was completely caught off guard by her smoldering appreciation.

He tried to gasp for air and collect himself but Carlotta's soft lips stunned him. She tasted of chocolate and her hips under his hands felt absolutely gorgeously decadent under the roman tunic she was still wearing. He deepened the kiss and she handed control over it to him. His breath caught in his throat when he felt Carlotta caressing his thigh with her leg. He had not planned on his gift taking this specific turn but who was he to deny a lady? He eagerly began to fondle Carlotta's breasts over her tunic. She gasped when he placed a wet kiss on the top of one of her breasts. His hands were all over her, working on her belt and skirt.

Carlotta heard the fantasma's voice screaming for her to stop in her head but it only made her more inclined to let Richard have his way with her. His hands were under her tunic, fumbling, trembling over the shape of her. He pushed her to the bed and unfastened his belt speedily. Before she could change her mind he took her virginity in hurried, rampant jabs. Afterwards they sloped exhausted on the bed and Carlotta massaged his scalp while he showered her with praising words. He would come back again the next day and the day after that and Carlotta was intoxicated with his enthusiastic passion for her.

...........................................

Underground in his dreamery the phantom buried his face in his hands. Tears ran between his fingers and dropped down on the stone floor. Ever since Carlotta had rejected him that night in the halls outside her dressing room, he had tried to coerce her to go up on the roof. He had whispered sweet words to her from the shadows but she had been cold and unresponsive to his allure. The rats scurried around him as they always did down in his palace. He lay down on the cave bottom and opened his shirt. Rats climbed over his bare chest and a mother rat mounted his face and stayed over his lips. He sucked at her teat and let the sugary mother's milk sooth his loneliness. When there was no more and he was sated he sat up and took one of his brothers in his hands. “Should we take her down here to live with us? ” He looked at the rat, its whiskers trembled. “No you're right. We wouldn't want that raving bitch bother us everyday, would we.” He kissed the rat on its head and let it back on the floor with the rest.

...........................................

It was Saturday evening, November 19th and it was the final performance of Agrippina. M. Thibault was at the opera to purchase the best seat in the house. Mme. Giry sold him a ticket to box five. It was the best seat directly in front of the stage, the madame assured him. He came alone as he always did, hoping to see Carlotta after the show. He would try to persuade her to stay in Paris and pursue a career there. In his right trouser pocket lay his grandmother's wedding ring. He was playing with it with slightly sweaty fingers, wondering if tonight would be a good opportunity to pop the question to her. If it was necessary to make her stay he would not hesitate to ask her.

Mme. Giry had not exaggerated and he was very pleased with his view over the stage when he sat himself down in his box. As this may be the last time he would hear Carlotta sing, he spared no expenses. He was completely immersed when act 1 ended. He was not keen on taking a break and stayed in the box for the entire pause. Act 2 was well under way and he did not even notice the chill that permeated the box. 

Carlotta started to sing _Sì, sì, ch’il mio diletto_ when she was rudely interrupted by a loud thump, followed by screams and shouts. People in the back row of the auditorium stood up and many of them started to flee out to the sides. The actors climbed down the stage to get a closer look and the concierges rushed to the place everyone was avoiding. One of them, M. Babin rushed out to stop Carlotta as she ran up the isle, but it was too late. She saw, and what she saw caused her to release a pained shriek that shook the crystal chandelier in the ceiling. Richard Thibault was bent backwards over a seat. His back was cracked and his head twisted in a unnatural angle. His dead eyes stared at Carlotta and she blacked out. She did not remember being escorted back to her dressing room. Her mother was there and tried to console her but Carlotta hissed at her and forbade her to come back. She wanted to be alone and wallow in her sorrow. In less than two months she had lost two men she cared deeply about and they had been in love with her. She cried and moved her hands up to her face. She looked at her red, puffy eyes in the mirror and tried to calm herself down. Some people were lucky in love and some people were lucky in other respects. She would have to be lucky in her career since love seemed to go beyond God's benevolence. 

An unopened wine bottle was standing on her dresser. It was a gift from Marc since it was their last show and the future was uncertain. Kind, generous, attentive Marc! He knew what she liked and how to spoil her. Even if Carlotta knew that Marc was not interested in women carnally he was the closest to a husband she may ever have, and that was fine she decided. She uncorked the bottle and poured herself a glass. It was a good wine and her troubles washed away with it. She finally felt relaxed. Carlotta looked at the silver ring on her hand. Perhaps it was all Medusa's fault? The ring had brought her nothing but bad luck. She twirled the ring around her finger and yanked at it to get it off but it stuck too hard on her. She decided to try it under water but when she rose her head was swimming. She felt as if she would faint or black out again. Her steps had gone increasingly heavy. Her bed was so close yet miles away at the rate her feet were beginning to numb. She swayed and staggered closer to it. When she finally arrived every last bit of strength in her was drained and she came crashing down upon it. 

Carlotta was laying on her stomach. She tried to turn into a more comfortable position but her body was too heavy and her arms too weak to support it. She craned her neck to be able to breathe and the exertion nearly had her giving up and die on the spot. 

She whimpered and wined but stopped when she heard the foot steps. Dress shoes clumping angrily and deliberately towards her. The warm feeling the wine had left in her body was contrasting harshly with the coldness on her skin. She saw her breath leaving her mouth in white puffs of smoke and was certain she would have chattered her teeth if her jaw wasn't so lax. 

A rough hand grabbed her hair and twisted her head toward the assailant. Blue eyes burning with hatred scorched her. She knew his face and it surprised her greatly to see him. She had not thought of Oscar for weeks. Not until a few minutes ago when she tried to remove the ring. When she looked back at him his face twisted into something she did not think he was capable of. Before she could react to it a strike to her face had her see stars. 

Carlotta's face landed in the softs sheets of her bed. She did not possess the strength to turn her head to allow her to breathe. She tried to suck air through her mouth but the sheets surrounding her cut off all air supply and she started to panic. 

“Why would you give to him what belonged to me?” he raged. “Let him have you down _there_. Like a whore!” He put his weight on her back and crushed her further down into the sheets. He grabbed her hair and turned her head so that she laid on her right cheek and could breathe again.

“I should call you MURDERESS! Lilith! Callous temptress, just like the WENCH you play on stage!” He spat his contempt on her upturned cheek. His voice was coarse and spiteful and he panted with rage and lust. His chest rose and abated with every wretched breath. Carlotta heard him tearing at her skirts. 'Ritsch' sounds filled her ears as the fabric tore and she could not move a muscle.

Carlotta's abounding arse was splayed in front of him. He ripped her panties down the crotch and bared her completely. Her pink flesh was taunting him between her spread legs. Why would she not give herself to him as she had done to that rich imbecile? He loved her more than Richard had, he was sure of it. The phantom's cock was throbbing and his head was throbbing with it in a maddening dance. What witchery was this that she would make him loose control like this? Her body was lax from the laudanum he put in her wineglass and offered little resistance when he thrusted his virgin cock inside it with a feral growl. The warmth and wetness clutching around him was unbelievable. The fact that she would deny him this pleasure fueled his anger even more.

Carlotta was numb from the opiate and hardly felt anything. She could only imagine what he was doing to her when he rutted her body into the mattress repeatedly. Tears streamed down her cheek. She could not believe Oscar would do this to her. She tried to scream but the only sound that came out of her throat was a ragged sob.

He continued to maul her body fiercely. His own cheeks were as wet with tears as Carlotta's. The sensations of doing it to her was new to him and perhaps if it had not come to this, non consensual coupling, he would have felt more pleasure than he did. It took a long time of convincing himself that Carlotta wanted this, wanted _him_, before he could feel enough to pursue his orgasm. 

“No longer will you haunt me with. Your. Seraphic. Witchery.” The last word was scrambled into a growl when he climaxed inside her. He caught his breath and slipped out from her. With a scowl he wiped himself off on her thigh and seized her hand. “I would have given you everything! Love! Troth!” he bellowed. “Give me back what is mine!” He squeezed his fingers around the ring and pulled. Medusa came off her finger with a 'plop'. He vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

Carlotta could not feel any pain but she knew her finger throbbed from the maltreatment. Her brain felt like thick porridge but she was too afraid to give in to the drowsiness. She lay awake for hours, waiting for the drug to wear off or her mother to come back. Eventually she drowsed off and when she awoke in the morning she felt a little better and could move her limbs. She sat on her bed and arranged her ripped skirts around herself and tried to smooth her disheveled hair when the door opened and her mother came in.

She looked warily at her daughter and tried to suppress a scowl when she saw the bruise on her cheek. “Come stai, Carlotta?” 

“Non è niente, mamma!” Carlotta took a deep breath and raised her chin up in the air. She was _Carlotta Altieri_ and no one would beat her down.

...........................................

A few days later M. Poligny came knocking at Carlotta's door. He was in a good mood and presented her with a contract. “M. Debienne and I would be very honored if you signed with the opera house for next year. We are absolutely bustling with ideas for the upcoming season and due to your unparalleled success we would very much like you to stay with us for a yearly salary of 15,350 franc.” He smiled widely and wiggled the contract in front of Carlotta. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest. She wanted to sign it right away before he changed his mind but the business woman in her reined her in and she told M. Poligny in the most indifferent voice she could come up with. “If you give me a bigger dressing room, a separate bed room and increase the salary to 15,850 we have a deal.” M. Poligny could barely contain his delight as he shook her hand. “I will make the changes in the contract and have you sign it in my office later this evening.”

“Yes, That will be fine Signore Poligny.” She closed the door behind his eager frame. This was exactly what she had been hoping for. Now if only Marc would decide to stay with her everything could not have worked out more perfect. Claudia could haul her large arse back to Napoli alone and Carlotta would transform this opera house to her design. _Si_, that would suit her very well. Not even Oscar or the _fantasmi_ in this old building could scare her away.

**Author's Note:**

> My husband and I were huge giallo buffs 15-20 years ago. The Il fantasma dell'opera is probably one of the worse phantom movies as such and the acting was mostly horrendous but I really like the Carlotta of that movie. She's so self indulgent and I would have wanted more interaction between her and the phantom.


End file.
